


Agents of Shield: Grey

by icewitch73



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Lance Hunter/Barbara Morse, Pre-S2 Canon, Skyeward (eventually), pseudo-redemption for Ward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4861100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewitch73/pseuds/icewitch73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the events of the season one finale.  Skye/Ward centric with dark undertones.  Just the way I like it.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The definition of insanity...

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream about the show, or rather a "scene" from the show that wouldn't leave me, and so I started a story around that "scene" so that I could share it. It was my way of eventually redeeming Ward (kind of), at least enough to allow Skyeward to make sense. This has been up on fanfic for awhile, and has been toiling there for several months since a last update. At first it was just about lack of time, followed by the S2 wind-down episodes, which killed all my muse or desire to continue. BUT... I do intend on finishing this story, both on fanfic and now here. Soooo... If you can be patient with me, we'll get there together.
> 
> Oh, and for clarification, Ward is my fave character on the show, but I am not one to blindly forgive him for all his crimes because he had a crappy childhood and even worse "rescuer". IMO, a lot of the fault falls on his family and obviously Garrett, but he's also a baddie in his own right and I kind of like that about him. LOL I love the Ward who is capable of good and bad in equal and swift measure. So I guess I'm saying that if you want the good guy who ultimately always does the right thing, or if you want the bad guy who never does the right thing...this is the wrong story for you. :)
> 
> Thanks for coming and putting up with me during my first AoS story. :)

Ch.1

The familiar and unnerving sound of a squeaky hinge alerted him to his visitor long before the footsteps reached his cell. Size ten, 210 lbs, 6' tall. He ignored the approaching dickwad who he lovingly nicknamed _Guard #3_ , and continued with his push ups unphased. Physical exercise was all he had to fill his days, as he wasn't allowed books or even a fucking magazine since being tossed into this pit. Apparently he lost the right to know anything about the world that he was no longer a part of, which was more than overkill in his opinion. They couldn't let him read the tv guide? Coulson hadn't been kidding when he informed him of his fate upon capture: internal torture and a little external.

He wasn't prepared for the boredom. The sheer dullness that included a lot of solitude, followed by the odd bout of pain. He was actually starting to look forward to the punches. The bruises reminded him that he was alive and the soreness broke up the monotony.

246 Days, 11 Hours, 31 Seconds.

That was a long time to be alone, even for someone who spent most of his life that way.

"It's time for your 30," guard #3 growled, interrupting his count and annoying him just on principle.

Ward pushed off from the floor and got to his feet, letting a tiny smirk grace his lips as he looked down on the big man with the big stick tucked into his belt. It gave him a somewhat lame satisfaction in being taller than this idiot. He reached toward his bunk and collected the pretty prison orange shirt, silently slipping it over his wide shoulders as he moved. The guard followed and did his usual routine, prodding him in the back while trying to be intimidating, when in fact he only came off as a tool but it was what it was. At least he could finally breathe some fresh air. Thirty minutes twice a week, that was his time. He would have the run of the courtyard, just him and guards 1-5, but he could breathe and that was something.

The only real problem with his 30, the one thing that he hasn't quite found a way to control, is how his mind gets away from him. For some reason, topside and feeling the wind on his skin and various scents on the breeze, he would think of _them_. It was the only time he couldn't stop it from happening, other than the odd dream that would slip into his subconscious and torment him, but that he expected from the outset. This was harder.

Ward stepped through the gate and onto lawn, sighing contendedly at the soft earth that gave a little under his bulkier muscled weight. He's probably gained close to twenty pounds now that he spends every waking minute exercising to avoid going numb. His head swivelled carefully, taking note of everything in that way that only a trained specialist would do, assessing the location and everything in it and doing it quickly...subtly. Some things never changed, even when everything was different.

The weather was worse than his last visit outdoors, gaining strength while he stood here and swiftly analyzed. There was a bite to the gusts on his face and forearms, but October was rolling in and so would winter soon enough. Maybe he'd build a snowman?

A sharp poke between his shoulder blades snapped him back to the man with the baton, forcing him further into his latest cage. The door clicked behind him and he felt himself relax, along with the internal clock that started the second that latch connected. His time started now.

And so he ran.

He ran easy laps around the wire fence of the courtyard, ignoring the voice in his head that was ticking off a mental checklist as he moved freely. Like how the five guards that were assigned to keep an eye on him were amateurish at best. He watched them congregate together and smoke and talk, taking this time, _his_ time, as their own. How if he were their superior officer he would point out a few basic things: it is much easier for a man to take down five when they are grouped close knit like a passel of high school girls between classes.

He would maybe also point out the mistake of having personnel move between buildings with their passcoded lanyards, and showing off to whomever may be paying attention _exactly_ how the entry process is handled. He doubted that these particular lanyards were equipped with a cleverly hidden tracking device, and he swallowed the split second pang of regret over removing Agent Koenig - a man he knew very little about, but he knew that he managed to be likable. Ward ran harder around his man-made hampster track.

He should have known that Skye would be the first one to realize that they were all tagged. He felt his anger bubbling up slowly from somewhere deep, forcing him to acknowledge yet another failing on his part. He was the trained specialist, the soldier, the undercover (double agent) spy. The fact that he missed the bug in the first place is the constant stinging slap to his ego, making sure that he never forgets how badly he mangled his mission.

_...near zero contact..._

He screwed the pooch on that one. If he had followed his directive then he wouldn't be here now and he wouldn't be hated by a group of people that still warmed him on the inside despite the fact that it was a weakness. If he had just been thinking straight and about his mission, and not on seeing a big doe-eyed set of browns that were alight with a trust he would never understand as long as he lived. He should have checked for a bug. THAT should have been the very first thing he did, not trying to find a way to finally have a long awaited drink with a pretty girl. He deserved to be here. No man deserved it more.

A door in the building beside him opened, and he turned in time to see a cute pixie blonde step outside with her coworker at her side. Her hair was almost white it was so blonde. She was a nurse in the medical wing, and a good one too. He could remember how gentle and genuinely caring she is when applying band aids to fresh interrogation wounds. Her eyes are soft and innocent, and he released a loud sigh, turning away and continuing his sprint with a growing frown on his troubled face. She doesn't look anything like Simmons, but they share a sweet naivete and belief in right from wrong. He just hopes that Jemma has held onto a little of that after everything he did to kill it. It wasn't a useful quality at all. In fact, he often wondered during his time on the bus how she managed to stay alive as long as she did. She was full of weakness, that one.

Only...

It never really seemed like weakness coming from her.

Ward slowed down and then stopped, breathing heavily, more so over his turbulent and prevalent emotions than the actual run itself. He wondered if Fitz was dead or as good as? That was someone he missed despite his best efforts to the contrary. Coulson has visited him exactly twice since dumping him in here and never looking back, and even then it was to begrudgingly get some Hydra intel from him. He gladly gave what he knew. He didn't care, not about Hydra and certainly not about Shield. But once, the last time he dropped in, he let a tiny amount of emotion out and in the process indicated that Fitz was on death's doorstep.

If he could know just one thing about his team, that would be number one with a bullet. Is Fitz dead or alive? He chose to believe the latter. It was the only reality he could face after pushing that button and ejecting his friends into the drink the way he did. And they were...his friends. His very first ever.

The team would be rebuilding Shield now. He wished them luck, he really did, they would need it with Hydra lurking in so many corners and blindspots. Ward walked his path, watching the nurse disappear through another door and watching the five guards watching her in a way that made him want to break a bone or two. It was disrespectful and it had nothing to do with the fact that she reminded him of Simmons. It was just bad manners, that's all it was, nothing more.

He began again, needing to keep on the move both for the chill and to evade his emotions as best as humanly possible. His muscles felt good when he was exercising. It was simple. It was a distraction, much like Melinda May had proven to be. Ward stopped again abruptly, pissed at himself for once again losing his mind when he was back in the world for 30 aggravating minutes. Why couldn't he just shut it all off?

There was no answer. He couldn't, not out here. He absently rubbed his throat, remembering all too well how long it took for him to get his voice back after May fractured his larynx with a smile on her lips. _Bitch!_ Yes, he deserved it, he was the traitor after all, but that did nothing to dissipate his anger over losing that damn fight. He kicked the fence.

"HEY!"

Ward turned his cold gaze toward the men on the far side of the yard, each trying their best to scare him with a death look. It was funny but he was too pissed off to smile. Instead he continued his route, walking into a smooth jog as his mind took him to Dublin and a bar and a lost opportunity.

Sleeping with May was the right thing to do for his mission. She was the true threat, equal parts beautiful and lethal, and so he kept her close. The only problem was that despite how easy it was to be attracted to her, she wasn't the one he really wanted and there lies the crux of all his problems in a nutshell. Skye. She has been a problem from the first moment, and he can finally see that perfectly clearly. He never stood a chance of resisting his feelings for her. Not once, not even when he thought he was winning. Which made him more stupid than the five morons guarding him so _diligently_. How the fuck did he let himself fall in love with the enemy?

Okay. So she was never his enemy, but it is so much easier to see her that way than to face any of the cold hard truths that he tries religiously to push away, about himself and a lot of things.

"Fifteen minutes, fucking traitor!" Guard #1 called out as he ran by, and he swallowed another bit of rage as guard #4 flicked his used cigarette at him in passing.

He kept going, kept running, trying very hard to control the heart that was pounding in his chest as he helplessly and uselessly lost the battle with his memories. It always came back to Skye eventually. The way she got on his nerves and called him names and mocked his stoic, controlled nature. The way she made mistakes like Miles, but had the heart enough to stand by the mistake until you couldn't help but trust her again. The way she pushed you to _feel_ even when you were an undercover sleeper agent designed to do the exact opposite. 

She made him want to be better. She is the only one who has ever made him want to be better. He still didn't know how to handle it. 

A new set of bodies filed out of a nearby building, and Ward felt every muscle in his body tighten as the trio approached the guards with wide smiles on their faces. They were not employees wandering the grounds like the nurse, no they were here for him. He knew it without a doubt, meeting the eyes of the one at the back, the one pretending not to be in charge for reasons that he had yet to learn. Perhaps there was a new and more painful session of torture being added to his regiment? That would at least be different, if not pleasant. He stopped running and watched as the "pretend" minion entered the fenced yard on his own. 

This was interesting. He walked forward to say hello. 

"Agent Grant Douglas Ward," the man greeted brightly. There was an enthusiasm behind the light in his hazel eyes. He held out a hand in a shake. 

Ward looked down at the outstretched gesture, and then found his face, enjoying the way the fake smile dropped from his fake lips. He saw no need for niceties if he was about to be tossed into a hidden room for unspeakable acts. Instead he crossed his large arms and waited, keeping his eyes on the man, even as he cast quick glances at the growing gaggle of men on the other side of the fence. The five guards plus two made seven. Seven was tricky, not impossible but definitely tricky. Not to mention the two guards above in the towers. At least they had their backs turned while keeping a trained eye on the outside world. 

"I guess I'll just get to it then," the man began again, not really caring whether they were fast friends or not. "I'd like you to work for me." 

Ward blinked and then grinned. "I'm sort of between jobs right now." 

A light chuckle floated on the wind. "Yes, well how would you like your life back?" 

He glanced around again, looking for the hidden camera or hidden gun that was no doubt aimed at his head. 

"I'm not here to kill you, I want to employ you." 

"You're not Shield," he stated, not sure how to feel about a Hydra operative strolling into a Shield facility and openly propositioning him without a care in the world. 

"And neither are you, but I am hoping you'll be as open with me as you have proven to be with Director Coulson." 

" _Director?_ " The words were out before he could stop them, and he silently cursed himself for divulging his surprise. The man's grin changed, sending a small shiver of discomfort down Ward's spine. "Look, I'm not Shield and I'm not Hydra so you've probably got the wrong guy." 

"I've got the right man. You're practically famous for what you've managed to pull off. I don't care about your allegiance to Shield or Hydra. Work for me and I'll get you the hell out of this hole in the ground. It's that simple." 

Ward stared at him, wanting to laugh in his ambitious face, but the fact of the matter is that things are officially changed. When a Hydra operative strolls into Shield's front door, well... He is a survivor, first and foremost. "So you intend on leading Hydra?" 

"I do." He didn't even hesitate, feeling slightly gleeful at the obvious interest in the man across from him. "I will. The only real question is do you want to join me or do you want to stay here." He paused, letting his curiosity get the better of him, "I have to ask though..." 

Grant waited patiently. 

"Why did you talk with Phil Coulson?" 

He shrugged, speaking the hard and real truth. "I owed him." He owed him more than he'd admit to this clown. 

"So is that a yes?" 

He stared. "Yes." 

"Excellent!" 

The man shouted across the yard that it was a go, and the next thing he knew the Hydra sidekicks were shooting his guards in the head without preamble. One turned and tossed a couple of knives, and just like that the two in the tower were no longer a problem. 

"Well, we should go." 

Ward followed slowly, watching as a few strategically placed charges took care of the doors and held back the impending wave of Shield Officers that would otherwise be on them. The fence was cut and they took a stroll off the property, and as he glanced behind him he had to wonder how much more of a mess that would have been if he had said no. 

"I understand you can fly a plane," the man said casually, hopping into a waiting Jeep. 

He joined him and then they were being whisked across a flat field of tall grass. Of course there was a hover plane waiting on the edge of it with a glaring Hydra logo. Damn, that logo was hideous. "I can," he replied easily enough. There was zero point in lying when all that would be in his file anyway. 

"Good." They moved toward the craft. The man spun to face his new hire. "I will need one more thing from you before we get started." 

Ward stared, waiting for the other shoe that was bound to drop eventually. "What is that?" he asked, not sure that he even wanted to know any more. 

"A true test of unwavering loyalty should suffice." 

He smirked slowly, unable to hide his growing amusement. How predictable? "You want me to kill my team." 

The man laughed. "Nothing brings a new venture together like murder, Agent Ward." They stared at one another intently, each letting their silent battle register. "Look, I know about you and Garrett." 

Ward frowned, suddenly pissed off. 

"I know that he rescued you and you were loyal until the end. That is all I'm asking for, and really, is it that much? I did just rescue you from incarceration as well." He smiled widely. "It seems that history is repeating itself." 

That it was. 

The man lost his jovial grin, replacing it with his own menace. "Words would be good here, Agent. Can you or can you not kill your Shield Team?"

"I can," Ward answered honestly, watching as the man nodded once toward a goon who quickly placed a weapon in his grip. He took it carefully, noting that Fitz wasn't the only one who had trouble losing the ounce. He checked it, surprised to find the magazine full. He lifted it slowly, checking the sightline, and then he turned and shot the two sidekicks between the eyes before putting a bullet in his rescuers gut. 

The man blinked his shock, clutching the bleeding wound that was marring his new Armani suit. He blinked again. "But..." He swallowed, noting that his throat was bone dry. "I got you out." 

Ward watched him sit on the damp ground, kneeling so they were eye to eye. "I appreciate the help," he smiled softly, "and the plane." Then he stood. 

A young man came barrelling down the ramp of the hover plane and stopped dead, frozen by the gun that was trained right at him. "Don't," he uttered, raising his hands and waiting. 

Ward moved closer, taking a moment to assess the kid and the level of danger. It didn't take long to know that it was minimal. He was a kid. "Do you have a gun?" he asked simply. The boy nodded and carefully removed it from his belt, placing it at his feet. "Well," he continued, stepping forward to collect the weapon, "do you need a ride?" Then he waited. 

"Yes sir," the boy replied, completely taken off guard by the question. 

Grant nodded and placed his own gun at his back. "Start the engine would you, kid?" He turned to comply, "and kid?" The young man froze for a second time, turning to meet his steady gaze. "If you use the radio or do anything else stupid I'm going to find out, and then I'm going to have to kill you." 

He didn't say anything but what could he say. He believed him. Instead he followed his order and left to prep for the flight. 

Ward returned to his host who was still on the ground holding his bleeding wound in disbelief. "You made some assumptions about me that you probably shouldn't have," he offered truthfully. The very least he could do is be honest with this man before killing him. "John Garrett was family, but so are my team. It'll take more than a prison break to make me kill them." He got closer, bending so they were face to face a second time. "But your biggest mistake was assuming that I would ever let myself be indebted to another man again." Ward got to his feet. Shield was finally on their ass. "I'm done taking orders." He aimed, fired, and boarded the plane that would take him on an entirely new journey, and he had no problem leaving Hydra in the dirt to do it. 

Who was he now? He still didn't know, but he wasn't in that pit which was a start. 

He got in the pilot seat and took off, wondering what the world would be like once he rejoined it.


	2. Pieces of a puzzle...

Ch. 2

 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She worked it out. She had eight months and change to work it out, and things have been good. Well, as good as can be expected when you were a wanted fugitive from your own government for imagined crimes trumped up by a Nazi organization, that proved more difficult to annihilate than a surprise alien invasion nearly taking out New York City.

 _Say that three times in a row really fast_ , she thought, wiping her brow with the back of her hand before grabbing the hanging bag in front of her to steady it.

It usually felt better to punch the crap out of this thing, but nothing was getting rid of the tight knot in her gut. Not even Tai Chi was going to take the edge off of this anxiety. May would be so disappointed with her lack of focus, but _he_  always did mess with her calm and so she also wouldn't exactly be surprised by it.

Seven hours ago everything changed.

And nothing changed at all.

Skye frowned, growing annoyed with this feeling of chaos and lack of control. She was being an idiot and it had to stop. Ward was out there again. So what? The only thing different with that was geography. They got him once and they would again, she had no doubt whatsoever on that much, and when they did they would drop him into a deeper hole where no one would be able to help him climb out.

That is what would happen.

She sighed softly, feeling an exhaustion in her bones that wasn't there before the prison break. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake some of it loose, and lay her head against the cool leather of the bag so that she could just...breathe. Then she turned away, slowly unraveling the tape from her beaten fists. Throwing herself into something physical was clearly futile, maybe she needed to stick to her roots? Without another thought, she climbed the metal steps two at a time and quickly vacated the sanctity of the cargo hold, eager to get back to her bunk and her laptop. There would be a trail somewhere and she would find it so they could find him and put this behind them once and for all.

Put this behind her.

_Damn it!_

Skye stepped into her room and climbed onto her bunk, flipping open the computer in determination. Her fingers were set to blaze the keyboard, only she froze at the face staring back at her with dark, empty eyes. His mug shot was larger than life on her screen, and she silently cursed herself for forgetting that it was there from earlier tonight. After a debrief about the escape, there was a compulsion to do exactly what she was trying to do now; get lost in the search so that she didn't have to face a few cold, hard facts.

Things like seeing him live and in person. The eyes on her screen were flat and one dimensional, but the human version was a problem that she wanted to run and hide from. Most days she could lie quite convincingly to herself, moving forward with a smile on her lips and a little hope in her heart, but the real truth was that not everything about the man was a cover story. Whenever she looked into his eyes there was a lot of truth staring back, but she didn't want it to be there because it hurt too much to process.

Ward was a traitor. She thought he was her friend, trusted him to teach her like a good supervising officer should, and saw the wounded heart that he tried so fiercely to hide from the world.

He wasn't her friend, or even her S.O., but the wounded heart was real. She knew it was, but it shouldn't matter to her and it angered her that it mattered very much. After everything that happened and every horrible, unforgivable thing he did, how could it still matter? What in the hell was wrong with her? He lied, he killed people, a LOT of people, and he hurt everyone that he pretended to care about.

_...and he loved you..._

Skye slammed the laptop closed and covered her mouth with a shaky hand. This prison break was highly inconvenient. Not only were people in danger since he didn't seem to have any quams about eliminating things from his path, but... She closed her eyes and flopped onto her pillow.

But...

Now she couldn't continue to run away. She would have to face him again eventually, and maybe she was looking at this situation the wrong way? May was pretty good at being over it, and that probably had more to do with her breaking his throat and kicking the crap out of him than it did her _Hate Fu_. A beat down could be cathartic, right? Not to mention, deserving.

A soft knock snapped her out of her head space and toward the person standing in her doorway. "What are you doing up at 3am?" She sat up.

Coulson smiled, mildly amused. "I don't sleep much anymore," he offered, casually referring to his untimely demise and subsequent forced reanimation.

"Oh, right." She felt like an idiot, which was becoming a thing.

"Why don't you join us in the galley?"

"Us?"

He smirked again, "yes, us, your team, your friends, us."

She frowned. "It's three in the morning." Why wasn't he getting the weirdness of this, and why was everyone hanging out in the kitchen?

Coulson shrugged, pushing off the door frame and making ready to leave. "Come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee." Then he left, certain that she would follow eventually.

Skye blinked, reopening her computer and promptly placing the mug shot photo into her recycle bin. EMPTY BIN, CLICK. The face was gone but it still haunted her. She didn't need it staring at her to remember his features, or the way she always felt safe with him right up until she didn't. Besides, obviously his photo was making her stupid. It didn't occur to her that the others would be just as affected by Ward's escape as she was, and she was more than a little angry at herself for being so damn selfish. I mean, Fitz...? She couldn't even finish that thought, stopping it dead in its tracks. Coulson not only trusted him to be a good man, but he trusted him with the team, and that was a level of betrayal that she knew he carried with him everywhere. May slept with him for crying out loud, and FitzSimmons nearly died because he was following his orders like a good little soldier. She blew out a sharp, uneven breath and then stood from her mattress.

They would catch him, but until then she was not going to spend every waking minute agonizing over a wanted felon. Instead, she left the sanctity of her room and joined the group in the belly of the plane, happy to not feel alone for a few blessed moments. "Hi," she greeted, sauntering closer and stealing a piece of toast from Tripp's plate. He frowned but didn't say anything and she smiled before taking a bite.

"Jemma, I'm begging you to stop!"

Skye swallowed the toast, along with a small amount of sadness at seeing the constant reminder of Ward's betrayal. Fitz was back, he was alive and himself _mostly_ , except of course for the cyber eye that replaced his left ocular orb. After they were rescued, part of his skull began to actually collapse in the decompression chamber, and so he was repaired not unlike the many machines in his lab. A new cybertronic eyeball and a small portion of metal to hold it in place where his skull and cheek bone used to be...no problem. She knew there was brand new technology coursing through her friend, because not even Mike Peterson received this level of tech. Fitz had some computer chips inserted into his head as well, but they worked not unlike living tissue, essentially becoming a part of his brain. She couldn't fully grasp the concept, but he and Jemma were disturbingly excited by the whole thing and so at least they were able to find some sort of weird nerd peace with it.

"You have to keep it clean."

"I AM keeping it clean!" He snatched the cloth from her hand and dramatically wiped the lens of his eye so that she got the point loud and clear. Apparently it worked since she backed off, but given the look on her face their fight would continue in length at a more private moment. Skye snickered.

"What's so funny?" the duo asked in unison, before turning toward the newcomer with intensity.

She blinked and held up her fingers in a V. "I come in peace, jeez."

"Honestly Skye," Jemma mumbled in a decidedly British and unappreciative tone, but she slid a cup of hot coffee over to her friend regardless. The women smiled at one another.

"So?" Tripp said aloud, letting the word fall off while everyone stared around the space with a growing awkward silence.

Skye flopped onto a high stool and leaned over the counter top. "Should we talk about the great big traitorous elephant in the room?" Fitz laughed, and she felt her heart lighten a little at the sound. It was a good sound.

"We'll deal with Ward later, he's not the priority right now."

Everyone turned to Coulson in shock.

"Not the priority," Jemma snapped back in disbelief.

He reached out and put a gentle hand on her tense shoulder. "We have a line on the Gravitonium."

"Oh, crap!" Skye blurted, before lowering her forehead to the countertop and banging it lightly.

"Exactly," Phil replied, appreciating the way the team went from distraught and personal with Ward, to alert and professional with the important case in front of them. They never ceased to amaze him. "We should be landing in about two hours and meeting with a contact who will be helping us reacquire the Gravitonium."

"But who?" Fitz asked.

"How?" Simmons queried.

"We'll talk about it in a few hours, for now I want the eggs that I was promised."

Skye frowned. "You know, for a guy who hates secrets you're surprisingly great at keeping them."

Coulson shrugged and then focussed on Tripp. "Eggs," he nudged again, ready to collect on a lost poker hand. He was surprisingly good at poker as well.

Tripp groaned, letting his unhappiness show, but got up and set out to make the crew some damn good eggs. He was no welcher. "So what the hell is Gravitonium, and is it as bad as it sounds?"

"It's worse," May answered, strolling into the room with her usual stoic expression plastered in place.

Coulson decided to elaborate. "Gravitonium has the potential to actually, physically destroy the entire planet."

He turned the burner off and slid the pan off of the heat. "Like all life on earth?"

Phil shook his head. "No, as in destroy the planet until there is no planet."

"Oh."

Skye turned toward her new teacher. "May, you were just in the cockpit."

She raised an eyebrow, waiting to see where this was going, but was otherwise silent.

"Coulson is doing his Director thing again. Where are we going?" she asked plainly, smiling widely while waiting for the answer.

May glanced over at her longtime friend with hard eyes. "I don't know anymore than you do. He's being irritatingly tight lipped on this meet, which," she began firmly, "makes security a lot harder to maintain."

Phil shrugged easily. "I have faith in your abilities." Then he grabbed his coffee and his eggs and left for the common area to claim a couch and relax for a bit. Their day was about to get a lot longer.

"Grrrrrrrr, he's so frustrating sometimes!"

May chuckled. "Get used to it because he's only getting worse." She helped herself to some middle of the night breakfast.

Skye watched Jemma join Tripp at the counter, while Fitz stood across from them, and the two did their very best to update their new team member with all things Gravitonium. Skye could practically see Tripp's eyes glazing over, but for his part, he paid attention. He was a great agent and would never gap out on something that could prove life threatening to anyone in his unit. She turned to May, who was content to eat her food in the background, and so she left the room to join her boss on a really comfy white leather couch.

"Don't start," Coulson said, cutting off any interrogation that was likely to happen.

It didn't deter her. "Is Ward your contact?"  His head shot up and their eyes met, and she knew instantly that he wasn't. It was a relief. _It was_. "I just thought maybe..."

He continued to look at her with soft eyes. "Grant Ward is no longer an asset that we can use, Skye. We can't control him anymore." It was hard to see all the emotion staring back at him, raw and painful. She thought she was good at masking it. "We'll try to take him in alive, but..."

"I know how this works," she blurted, straightening at the innuendo that Ward's life was secondary to his capture. She held his watchful, often intrusive gaze. "He's the bad guy and we're the good guys and that's that, right?"

"Not exactly."

She frowned, suddenly pissed off at the world. "Look, he _just_ escaped and now you have some mystery informant dangling the biggest Shield carrot around. Can you really trust this? I mean, Ward and Garrett were the ones to steal the damn thing out from under our noses to begin with, so it's a pretty big coincidence that this is all happening in tandom, don't you think?"

Phil reached forward and gave her hand a quick squeeze, before resuming his breakfast. He didn't look at her and focussed on his plate. "You need to trust me, Skye."

She did. Unequivically. "Fiiiine," she whined, slumping into the cushions and crossing her arms while he ignored her, "but that doesn't mean I like you very much right now."

He smiled, eating his eggs.

 

3 HOURS LATER

 

"This is a bad idea," Melinda said softly, staring past the parking lot that was serving as their landing strip, and toward a series of old, abandoned buildings. "You see that right? How this is a very bad idea?"

He nodded in agreement, while checking his gun and loading up with extra ammunition. "Yup."

"It's a trap," she stated calmly, keeping her eyes on their creepy destination. She wasn't feeling very calm.

"That's likely."

May felt her anger bubbling to the surface. "Why are we here, Phil?"

"Because it's our job to do the hard things."

"Don't spout the company line at me," she spat, staring at him with growing emotion, "this is stupid and we shouldn't be walking blindly into..."

"May," he interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"IT'S HYDRA!" she shouted, covering his hand with hers before releasing it and quickly reclaiming herself.

They stared for a moment, and then he continued prepping for his meeting. "It's a chance we have to take." She didn't speak, but her question of _why_   was written all over her. "Because," he began simply, "if this guy is on the up and up and we have a real chance at getting the Gravitonium back, we have a duty to take it. It's the most important thing we could be doing right now."

She frowned, retraining her eyes on their destination with careful scrutiny. "I'm taking high ground."

Coulson fought the smile that wanted out. "Sounds good," he agreed, as they were joined by a battle-ready Skye. "Nice outfit."

She grinned. "Thanks, May has been helping me with my badassery." She slipped on a black pair of leather gloves to match all the other black leather that she was wearing. "Why are these places always so creeptastic?"

May looked at her earnestly. "Stay focussed," she instructed firmly, before jogging across the asphalt and slipping into shadow.

"You ready?" Coulson asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"I got your back." She smiled warmly.

Phil turned to the rest of his team. "Agent Triplett..."

"No one but family is stepping foot on this plane," he replied honestly.

"Please be careful, sir," Jemma pleaded, silently taking Fitz's hand.

Coulson nodded and then walked forward, watching as Skye broke off and disappeared to his right as they neared the buildings. She has come a long way from the innocent girl she used to be, and he trusted her to have his back and her own. He was in good hands with his team. All of them. He glanced around carefully, taking in the abundance of corners that could easily be housing a Hydra kill team. This was a risky venture he was taking them on and it didn't sit well.

The silence was eerie.

There was no noise at all, except for the soft pad of his Italian loafers as he strolled further along the corridor of dilapidated warehouses. He took a few more steps, before freezing, focussing on a spot to his left. For all intents and purposes it seemed empty, his eyes detected nothing out of the ordinary, but his spine was tingling in a way that told him otherwise. "You can come out, Redmond."

A man with dark hair and dark eyes stepped forward, revealing a very out of place silk suit to match his dark demeanor. It was more cliche than Phil wanted to admit.

"Took you long enough," he greeted, offering his hand in a shake that was reciprocated cautiously. "I was beginning to think that you were going to stand me up."

Coulson smiled. "That would be rude."

May and Skye came forward, slowly lowering their weapons after noting the look in their boss's eye.

"I'd like you to meet, Redmond Frasier. He is a slithery snake of a man with close ties to Ian Quinn."

"WHAT?" Skye snapped her gun back up, trying to ignore the heartbeat that was suddenly lodged in her throat. She remembered all to well what it felt like to crumple into Quinn's arms as he shot her twice and left her to die in a dingy cellar. "And you think HE'S going to help us?" She was so angry.

Coulson stepped between Skye and her target, staring her down. Eventually she lowered the muzzle a second time. "I think that his information could be useful to us, but," he continued, facing the informant with a hard look, "if he does anything remotely fishy I have zero problems with shooting him twice in the gut and then dropping him out of our plane."

Redmond smirked, with no mirth in his steady gaze. "Charming." He ran a hand through his thick hair. It needed a trim and badly. He felt uncouth. "Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?"

"So talk."

He actually chuckled. "Oh no, my friend, we need to get airborne before Raina and her thugs suss us out. If I'm going to betray a pack of lunatics then I'm going to do it moving." He tried to leave but Agent May was blocking his path. He frowned in irritation. "I'm not use to having to explain myself."

She didn't budge. "Get use to it."

He blinked, and then again, before finally caving a little. "Quinn and I haven't been in touch since he started working for Hydra alright, our ideas about the future no longer...mesh, shall we say?"

"Why in the hell would we believe a word that comes out of your mouth?" Skye asked, point blank.

He liked her directness. "You're the 0-8-4," and just like that he had guns pointed at his skull again. "Jeez, you people are wound tight." They eased up a bit, but only a bit. He blew out a quick breath. "I am not altruistic, nor am I good or decent. I'm a business man that got screwed over by Quinn when he took up with a damn cult."

"So this is revenge for you." Phil watched him closely.

"No," he continued, shocked that they couldn't figure it out. "I'm a greedy bastard who likes money and power, but I'm not so far gone that I can't see the danger that is right in front of me. This is self-preservation, pure and simple." He couldn't tell whether they believed him or not. "I know what the Gravitonium can do, and it needs to be in the hands of someone who isn't stupid enough or insane enough to actually use it. What good is money if the entire world implodes?" He waited, wondering if a set of handcuffs were coming his way or not.

"I believe you," Skye said at last, looking at her teammates and waiting for their reactions to his survival speech.

"The plane is this way," Coulson instructed, watching as Skye led their latest addition toward the bus. He turned to a quiet May. "What do you think?"

She stared at him and then started walking. "I think that he's holding something back."

Phil couldn't agree more. He picked up his pace, anxious to get back into the air.

 

 


	3. Ready or not...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who has been reading, reviewing or giving kudos. So very appreciated. 
> 
> Thank you. :)

Ch. 3

 

"I can't believe that the Director trusts him?"

Fitz turned to his friend, unable to hide his amusement. They were on the far side of the room, leaning over the high countertop of the kitchen to peer at the mystery man who was making himself at home on their plane. As of yet, he didn't seem to notice them. "You think that he trusts him?"

Jemma's brow furrowed, she was definitely confused when the obvious was saying _yes, clearly_. She lowered her voice and whispered her concern. "He isn't in the holding cell, he's hanging out on our couch with a bloody scotch in his hand." Her eyes narrowed. "You tell me why that doesn't symbolize trust? I mean, he's more like a guest, isn't he?"

Leo pushed off of the surface and stood, still smiling despite himself. "Jem, do you see May doing her meditation thing on the other side of the room?"

"Yeah?" She stood too, placing her hands on her hips. "So what? She always meditates."

He shook his head and walked down a corridor with her on his heels. He needed the holotable to do some calculations, and he needed her to help him with some of the math. "When was the last time May did meditation in the rec area?"

Jemma stopped for a second, letting it dawn on her, and it was so obvious now. "I guess I missed that."

Fitz chuckled and stepped into the conference room. "Come on," he said, changing the subject, "I need your help figuring out some of the Gravitonium calculations. If we get our hands on it we'll need to contain it safely."

She smiled and joined him, feeling a little thankful that he pointed out the truth. May would keep an eye on things and that made her feel a whole lot better.

 

***

 

"You're staring."

Redmond smiled softly. "What else am I going to look at?"

Skye continued to type on her laptop for another moment, before staring back hard. "Cut it out!"

This time he chuckled. "Look, I'm not trying to be creepy."

"Well you suck at it." She resumed her work, anxious to get a hit on Ward and where he might be lurking.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Her head shot up with a deep frown in place. "That right there, that was creepy, FYI."

He blew out an aggrevated breath, placed his glass on the table in front of him, and then leaned into the couch with both arms stretched across the back. His eyes didn't waver from the little brunette. "I'm trying to get you to talk to me because I'm bored, and you know, that is a huge part of the problem with your generation."

She smirked in amusement. "Oh yeah, what is that?"

"You're rude," he pointed out, watching the shock register on her pretty face.

Skye sat up straight, closing the computer and tossing it to her side. "I'm not...you know you..." She stopped talking.

He eased up a bit. "We have quite a bit of time before we get to where we're going."

"Where are we going?"

He ignored the question, but he could see that she expected that and it made him like her a little bit more. "Look," he started again, dropping his hands comfortably into his lap, "Ninja Beauty over there isn't going to strike up a conversation, so why don't we just shoot the breeze a little?"

Skye couldn't figure this guy out. He was old enough to be her father if she had one and so she thought he could be an old pervert, but whatever his interest was in her it wasn't that. "What do you want to talk about?"

He relaxed and picked up his scotch, taking a small sip. "How about you? Any long lost family? A boyfriend? How about a dog or a plant?"

She shook her head in amusement. "Oh sure, why don't I open up to a complete stranger with ties to Hydra and various other criminals hell-bent on ruling the world. Sounds good, I'll get right on that."

"Well what then, the weather?" He waited patiently, done offering suggestions of appropriate chit chat topics.

Skye looked at him carefully. "Let's talk about you. Any family....or a boyfriend?" She grinned, noting the spark in his eyes over that little bit of cheek. Her smile widened.

"Cute." He took another drink of his scotch. "I have a daughter," he offered, spinning the glass on his knee. "She's your age."

"Is she as lax in her associations as her father?"

He took a moment, watching her until her wide eyes lost some of the animosity that she was reserving for him. "She was lost to me a long time ago."

Skye saw a bit of sadness in his eyes and actually felt bad. "What does that mean, lost?"

He didn't answer, instead he poured more scotch and provided her with a glass, pushing it across the table in offering. "Bottoms up!" he declared, downing the liquid and wincing at the sharp sting in his throat. He poured a third.

She glanced at the drink on the table for a moment, before reclaiming her laptop and holding it tightly. She looked at him evenly. "I have a lot of work to do." He nodded but said nothing and she swallowed. "It's important."

"By all means," Redmond replied, happy to see her acknowledge him before diving back into her duties. She was quite fascinating this one, full of loyalty and heart. It was nice that there were still people like that in the world.

"What do you know about 0-8-4s?" she asked softly, refocussing on the man in the slick suit.

Redmond leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while meeting her nervous gaze. "I know that they are objects of unknown origin, and I know that you're one of them."

She was beginning to feel pissed off! " _HOW_ do you know? You're not SHIELD!"

He laughed at that one. "Oh, my dear, I know a lot of things about a lot of things, and I know them because I make a point of having all kinds of friends. You should try it sometime."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He sat back up and smirked in amusement. "It means that Shield is noble and just and all that, but they are also outdated."

"Well Shield," she began, making a grand sweeping gesture with her arm to indicate the plane and everyone in it, "is protecting your sorry ass right now, so maybe you need to be more grateful."

Redmond smiled and nodded in agreement. He liked this girl. "Maybe I do at that."

She was still frowning, she could feel it but couldn't seem to stop it, and she had to be better at keeping her emotions in check around this man. He wanted something from her, though she couldn't fathom what? Skye inhaled sharply and then again, letting the air in her lungs expand and calm the racing pulse in her veins until it was no longer rampant. "You are a very annoying man."

"That is not the first time I've heard that." He glanced around, noting that the two scientists were gone from their not-so-hidden perch. The warrior was still there, relaxing and breathing as though there was no one else in the room. It was impressive, if not a little insulting. "So any luck finding him?" he asked casually, refocussing on the girl with the computer open in her lap.

"Him who?"

"Your boyfriend."

She sighed, clicking the thing closed for the millionth time and setting it aside. She crossed her arms and stared, ready for another battle. "He's not my boyfriend, he's a fugitive." He obviously didn't agree. "He escaped from prison and it's my job to find him."

Redmond looked at her and rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh."

She sat up straight. "You think you know everything, but you don't know anything."

He cocked his head to the side, pondering that for a moment. "I know Grant Ward," he offered, waiting to see if she would shut down again.

Skye didn't believe him. "You know Ward?"

"I've worked with him quite a bit, though not since Garrett's untimely passing. I imagine he's a little lost now."

She blinked in shock, but whether it was for his knowledge or his sympathy for Ward, she wasn't sure? "Well that's his own fault, isn't it? He had a family and he tossed us aside for a psychopath."

"That's it," he prodded gently, "that's all there is to it? He made a choice and he didn't choose you."

"YES!" she shouted, noting how May was on her feet and watching with an attentive gaze. Skye shook her head, appreciating that the other woman was letting her handle this herself. When Melinda was back in her corner and breathing, she turned to her persistently irritating companion. "Yes," she said again, more collected, "that's all there is." It was getting harder to breathe with a growing weight on her chest.

"Now you sound like Coulson."

This time Skye smiled. "Thank you for the compliment."

Redmond took another sip and spun the glass on his knee, watching the liquid twirl rhythmically. "Don't tell him this, but I really, really like Phil. I've never met anyone like him and I've met a lot of people." She was watching him, he could feel her big, brown eyes. "His moral compass is...well, unwavering I guess? I mean, he always does the right thing, no matter what it is, no matter what the cost. Nobody does that, but he does."

"He's honorable."

Redmond finally met the eyes that were glued to him. "He's also very black and white, right and wrong, but what about the grey?"

Skye was frowning again. "Right and wrong is there, even in the grey."

"Yes, but there are reasons why people do the things they do, young Skye. Every decision has a circumstance, and if you don't consider the circumstance then you ignore important things. The one thing I've learned during my time on this earth is that people are never just one thing. Never. That is why Shield is dying. You have to adapt to survive, and I'm betting you're a survivor."

She sat there with her mouth open, not sure how to respond to this guy.

"Maybe your boyfriend is a survivor too?"

Skye stood from her couch and grabbed her computer, tucking it under her arm. "We're done here. You want to play head games, play with yourself." Then she left him behind and went to her bunk, desperate to close out the words that were still ringing in her ears. She wasn't an idiot and he wasn't entirely wrong, but he wasn't entirely right either. Circumstance only went so far, because murder was murder and Ward did that to a lot of people. She wouldn't let herself forget that, and she wouldn't let some random guy turn her inside out.

She opened her computer and continued her search, determined to stay on point. The Ward that she knew never really existed in the first place. It was a story. It wasn't real.

She would do her job.

He would do his job.

Then they would see where they wound up at the end of this stupid roller coaster ride.

 

***

 

"So what are you doing?"

Skye stopped typing long enough to glance at her new visitor. She smiled warmly, shrinking the page on her laptop and opening another. "I'm trying to circumvent the firewall that is currently shielding our navigation systems." He didn't move or speak, watching her carefully. She felt a small lump in her throat. "I want to know where we're going, especially if it's Redmond who is leading us there."

Fitz nodded slowly, taking it upon himself to sit at her side on the small bunk. He couldn't help but notice the way she subtly twisted the laptop, angling it just enough to keep his eyeline off the screen. "So what are you really doing?"

She rolled her eyes and shut the computer, crossing her fingers casually over its surface. "I just told you."

Fitz smirked and shook his head, but he was definitely feeling more annoyed than jovial. "Do you think that if you mention the name Grant Ward I'll crumble into a little ball and cry like...well you, when you see a spider?"

"Hey!"

This time his smile was more genuine. "Any luck finding him yet?"

She shook her head. There was no trace of him. He was in the wind and it would not be easy to find him until he was ready to show himself. "I really am trying to get into the nav system though. Don't you want to know where we're going?"

"Yeah, that Frasier guy is weird, even for us."

"You should try talking to him sometime," she replied, snidely.

Fitz turned sideways on the bed, facing his friend with soft eyes. "Look, you don't have to..." He stopped for a second, gathering his thoughts. "If you find Ward, you don't have to keep that from me. I won't break, and I'm not clinging to some hope that he's misunderstood."

Skye kept her face neutral, even though every piece of her was anything but. This is what she wanted to hear, what she had hoped for way back when they were living out of a hotel and figuring out how to survive Garrett and the fall of Shield. "When I find anything, I'll share it." Her heart was picking up speed at an alarming rate. Here was Fitz, finally facing the truth about Ward and saying all the right things. He was grounded and seeing the reality of the situation, and seemed perfectly clear on the fact that his former friend almost killed him and Simmons.

So why did it feel so completely wrong?

If Fitz, of all people, finally wrote off someone without the chance for... _For what, Skye? Stop acting like a school girl with a crush_ , she scolded inwardly. She was being idiotic, he was a murderer and would most likely pop up to try and kill them again at some point. It was past time to put on the big girl panties.

She glanced at her hands, which were linked together and squeezing hard enough to turn her knuckles white. She took a quick breath to try and hide her anxiety. "Everything will work out the way it's supposed to," and it would, she knew it would. Especially once she found a way to kill the small fissure of hope that stubbornly bloomed deep within her belly, refusing to die. No matter how hard she tried, or how many times she told herself the cold, hard facts, she could not manage to scrape away the tiniest glimmer that one day they would see Grant Ward again...her Ward, the one she knew to be good.

Apparently, her and Fitz have changed places.

_...knock knock..._

Three eyes and one cybernetic lense shot toward the door, and to the man looming in the frame.

"You can stop trying to hack into our systems now," Coulson said, matter of factly.

She blinked. "What? I'm not...I wasn't..."

He grinned, splashing his large amount of amusement all over his face. "Conference room in five. Let's move." Then he left them behind.

Skye turned to Fitz, who was watching her right back. "Well that was..."

"...awkward?" he provided, finishing her thought for her.

She frowned. "Shut up!" He laughed and stood from the bunk. "After you," she said smoothly, climbing from the mattress to follow him.

He flashed her a cheeky grin. "Yeah, beauty before Skye," he quipped, and then bolted down the hallway feeling proud of himself.

She shook her head, chuckling softly. It was good to have him laughing and joking again after everything. She paused long enough to reopen her laptop. Then she typed in a few commands that would have her search continue the hunt for Ward while she was gone. There was absolutely nothing wrong with multitasking. It was a good quality.

But one problem at a time. First she had to learn about Gravitonium.

She left for the meeting, ready to finally have some actionable intel that could keep her occupied and not brooding about a certain... anything.

 

***

 

"Please tell me that you're joking."

Everyone stood around the holotable, staring mutedly at the architectural plans of the compound. The silence was thick with tension and regret, and why wouldn't it be? They've all been here before.

Skye crossed her arms over her chest, staring blankly at the schematic - and specifically the pool in the center of it - that took her back to her first real mission with this SHIELD team. She would have died at that poolside if Ward hadn't rescued her ass, but that was just another illusion. "Malta? Really?" She found Coulson watching her with a patient gaze, waiting for her to grasp the situation and deal with it. He never doubted her ability to deal with things. "Why would Quinn even come back here, and even if he is back, how in the hell are we going to get inside this time? I'm pretty sure I can't wrangle a fake Rising Tide invite."

He smirked and turned to Fitz expectantly.

"Right," the scientist said, realizing it was his turn to do some talking. "The last time we needed inside help to breach the energy barrier that surrounds the island, but this time we have another way in."

She stared hard. "I'm waiting!" Okay yes, she was being a little bitchy, but to be fair Ian Quinn shot her twice in the gut and left her for dead, and now they were here, knocking on the bastard's front door. Also... There were memories.

Simmons stepped closer and put a gentle hand on her friend's stiff shoulder. "Mr. Frasier knows a way past the fence." She met the angry brown eyes that were looking at her in disbelief. "We're going to sneak in without them knowing it."

Skye laughed. She looked from one face to the next, ignoring the amused grin of the _guest_ as he watched her from his corner of the room. "So our entire plan hinges on intel coming from that man?" she asked, pointing at Redmond without remorse. "Come on Coulson?" He just watched her in silence and she wanted to hit him. "May?"

Melinda stepped forward, needing to end this tirade so that they could get geared up. Wheels were down in twenty minutes. There was no time for this. "The plan is solid." She could see the young woman about to protest louder, so she shook her head firmly, effectively silencing her words, if not her emotions. "No one here is stupid enough to trust this man."

"Thanks for that," Redmond replied casually.

She ignored him. "We are out of time. We need to get inside and get that Gravitonium far away from Quinn and so we are taking a gamble, but not blindly. Precautions will be taken. It's that simple."

She wanted to continue to stomp her feet about this plan, if you could call it that, but risk was nothing new for any of them. They watched each other's backs and they would again, and they'll do it knowing that Frasier was a liability. The truth is, she didn't want to go back down there and see Quinn, or remember a time when she felt safe because of strong and lethal hands that fought for her without question.

_Grow up, little girl!_ she thought, sadly. "Okay. Let's do this."

Coulson laid out the plan that they would follow, and then they were on their way.

 

ONE HOUR LATER

 

The team stood at the entrance to a small cavern that passed through the barrier fence line. Getting onto the island was not the problem, but the protective and invisible grid that circled the property was as solid as could be. It disintegrated anything that touched it until there was nothing left at all - no body, no dust, just a lot of nothing. This wasn't an ideal situation.

"Okay," Skye began again, still trying to grasp the science, "give it to me one more time. How exactly is walking into this cave going to be fine when contact with this thing zaps you into molecules?"

The answer chirped in her earpiece, as Simmons piped up from the plane that was circling low enough to avoid any radar.

"It's quite simple really."

Skye rolled her eyes. Simple to anyone with genius level IQ, sure.

Jemma continued talking in a rush, as she relayed the information with a little excitement. "Though the barrier does extend down into the entrance of the cave, the walls of rock weaken the strength of the power used, and therefore we can interupt it without flagging anyone in the compound who might be paying attention."

"Exactly," Fitz said, grinning widely beside a frowning Skye who was not impressed at all. He began to set up the mechanical gadgets that would get them through the energy field. "You see, the power particles are only indestructible when linked."

"Talk English please."

He blew out an exasperated breath. "Think of a chain. It is only as strong as its weakest link. This fence is basically a chain made from highly molecularized energy, but the cave interrupts the strength of the chain. It is functioning, but not connected to the stronger, impenetrable fence, which means we can short circuit it without alerting the compound that the fence is down. Technically, the fence will be standing as tall and strong as ever." She still had a blank expression on her face. "We can punch a hole in it."

She smiled. "I forgot how impressive you can be with that brain of yours."

"You should never forget that," he replied, without missing a beat. He flashed a quick grin, and began to focus on getting their doorway operational.

It didn't take long.

"Alright," Coulson said, turning to his team on the ground. Tripp, you're with Redmond in the lead, I'll take the rear."

"Yes, sir."

The cavern was large enough to walk into, but narrow enough that they were going single-file. Tight corners were a lot harder to navigate in a fight, but there was no other way inside the compound. He looked at Skye. "You know what you have to do?"

"Yes," she ground out, annoyed that he was back to talking to her like she was still a newbie. It was his way of being protective of her, she knew, but it still rankled a bit. "We have to split up, the place is huge, but I'm eyes only. If I spot Quinn or Raina you'll be the first one I call. The objective is to find the package, not engage."

"Let's move," he ordered, watching as they made their way onto enemy territory. "May," he said quickly, "we're going dark until extraction. Be careful and take care of my plane." She didn't speak, but he could practically see the smile on her face over the line. Then he followed. They had work to do.

 

***

 

"Skye, come in," he said again, getting nothing but static in his ear. Coulson turned to Redmond. "Why in the hell are the comms down?"

He shrugged. "How should I know, I've been with you on your plane, remember?" He ran a quick hand over his face, trying to wipe away the worry that was etched there thanks to the bombs strung through every hallway. "Maybe we're too far underground for them to work, or maybe Quinn has some sort of interference set up?" He paused, thinking of the many possibilities and none of them were pleasant. "It could be the Gravitonium? Or hell, maybe it's an electrical storm? This area is prone to them."

Phil was not happy about this turn of events. His team was scattered, scouring an enemy compound for the Gravitonium, and apparently Mr. Quinn has gotten more paranoid since there was C4 strung every few feet. They all needed to get the hell out of here. "Let's move! We'll finish checking this level and then head topside. I want my team alerted to the explosives that could potentially destroy this entire place."

And they did move, and fast. Time was of the essence.

 

***

 

She sucked in a quick breath and held it, watching from a dark corner of a nearby building, as Quinn and Raina got into a heated discussion about something she couldn't hear. The tension in their bodies and the anger on their faces said enough. Trouble in paradise. Two guards approached with a large package hoisted between them and she knew without a doubt that it was what they were here for: Gravitonium. Quinn was obsessed with it, so of course he would not let it out of his sight for long. The men continued into the side of the building, carrying their parcel carefully away, and after a few more bitter words, the evil, angry duo followed.

"Coulson, I found them," she whispered softly, eagerly relaying the message to her friend and boss. "Coulson, you read?" Nothing. There was nothing. "Damn it!" she muttered, biting her lip as the realization that she had to follow them dawned on her. It was not something she wanted to do, get close to Quinn again, but Tripp was out of earshot and wouldn't be back for about another five minutes. She didn't want to risk losing them.

Skye made her decision, the only play she had, and left her relatively safe corner. She kept to the shadows, kept to the building, letting it shield her until she was close enough to make a break for the doors that her targets disappeared through. "Coulson, Tripp, anyone...?" Even the plane was out of reach, so she was on her own.

_Ugh._

There weren't as many guards as she remembered from her first visit, but then again, there wasn't a lavish party going on with hundreds of new bodies that could pose a threat to anything Ian had on the go. He didn't have to work as hard to keep his secrets safe. She pushed off from the cool brick and strode forward quietly, nearly ready to dart inside, when something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She took a breath and froze, half expecting a guard to be barrelling on her with an automatic weapon. She turned and looked closer, feeling her blood run cold in an instant. It was worse than that.

_Ward._

Skye sank to the ground, carefully retreating until she was once again shielded from open sight lines. Her eyes were glued to another building and another entrance, one where another bad guy was slinking through the shadows and slipping underground unnoticed. He looked the same, or mostly the same, a little rougher maybe? Same dark hair, same hazel eyes, the ones that looked right at you while he lied.

Her heart was in her throat, but she swallowed it down, turning back toward her mission target and the set of doors that she needed to force herself through. The Gravitonium was the priority. She moved quickly.

It only took her about half a step before she changed course. If Ward was here he was up to something and it would be bad. She needed to find out what and stop it from happening again. She needed to be one step ahead of him for a change and she needed... a lot of things...

"Coulson, if you can hear me, Ward is here. I'm going after him."

She opened the doors and descended the cement staircase that lead to complete blackness. _Of course!_ she thought, ignoring the shiver on her skin, which was from the coolness of the basement and the creepiness of the situation, and NOT because of anything she was feeling at the moment. She followed the hallway, knowing that eventually, she and her former S.O. would end up in the same place. So it looks like their reunion was going to be sooner than she expected.

She just hoped she was ready for it.


	4. Reunited and it feels so...

Ch. 4

"Mind if I join you?"

May turned her head an inch, indicating that she heard the mousy request, while keeping her focus on the water and the sky that surrounded them. She wasn't surprised that the young girl was slipping uncomfortably into the co-pilot chair at her right, only that it took as long as it did to happen. She soundlessly placed a set of earphones onto her lap.

Jemma followed the silent instruction, and smiled nervously with her hands fisting together in front of her. The roar of the engine was completely gone now, thanks to the muffs over her ears, but she could hear every soft breath coming from the stony woman at her side. "It's amazing how big the plane seems when you're the only one moving around in it." The words were true and couldn't be more genuine. You wouldn't know it by looking at the stoic pilot, because if she didn't already have a ton of past experience with the woman she would assume she was being ignored. "So," she began, forcing meaningless conversation to fill the emptiness between them, "no music?"

May had to actually fight to keep her lips from twisting up at that comment. "They'll be fine," she offered, as simply and as directly as she could manage.

Simmons lost her nervous smile instantly. "The thing is..." She trailed off for a second or two, needing to gather all her scrambled thoughts into something coherent. "Well, Fitz hasn't been out in the field since the medpod, since the ocean or Ward," she rambled, pushing forward, "and Skye might seem fine, but you and I both know that she isn't fine in the slightest. She won't be fine until...after." The senior agent continued to fly the plane unphased, to the point that Jemma wasn't entirely sure she was listening for real. "The team is being lead onto proven enemy territory by a man we know nothing about, other than he likes suits and scotch and worked closely in the past with Ian Quinn." Still nothing, this was getting irksome. "May," she pushed more firmly, thankful that the woman glanced in her direction at least, "I'm really worried here."

The agent reached out briefly to squeeze her young friend's hand, wanting to laugh at the obvious surprise on her fresh face. She refocussed straight ahead, looking for the trouble that would be coming their way soon enough. "You need to trust the team," she finally spoke, meaning it wholeheartedly. "Coulson will find a way to communicate to us, and when he does, we'll get them out."

"But what if..."

"No," she shut her down quickly, "there are no 'what ifs' during missions." She turned and lost some of the edge to her voice. "There are a lot of reasons why the comms could be down, and until we hear or see something to indicate the need for immediate extraction, we fly around this island and we trust in our team. That is all we can do."

She swallowed, surprised to find her anxiety lessened a wee bit. "Trust the team," she repeated, sitting in the chair and staring out at the large ocean in front of her. It was good advice. Sound advice. They would look out for one another, and she and May would look out for all of them. Done deal.

May took another quick glance at her partner, noting the way her spine was less rigid. They all had parts to play in this, but damn if it wasn't difficult as hell when you were the one in the dark.

Well, she's been in the dark before. _Come on, Coulson!_ she silently beckoned, gripping the wheel tighter.

Trust in the team.

She made another wide loop around the island.

 

***

 

"There is no trace of her, sir."

Coulson blew out a sharp breath and pinched the bridge of his nose as the words sunk in. "May, do you copy?" Nothing. Static. "Home Fire, come in?" Whatever was jamming their signals was jamming everything. He couldn't reach the plane or count on their support, there were bombs strung liberally around the property, and his agent was missing in action. This was not his favourite mission ever. "We need to stay on point. If Skye was taken she would have found a way to let us know, or at the very least there would be signs of a struggle." He turned his attention to Agent Tripp. "If she didn't wait for you, then she's probably already chasing her target. Let's find what we came for, get Skye, and get the hell out of here before those bombs go off. That's the plan."

"Yes, sir," Tripp responded, even if he knew that they were shooting in the dark more than usual.

"Yes, sir?" Redmond chuckled in clear amusement. "Really?"

Tripp ignored the man. "She might not know about the explosives. She could be captured." He knew he was saying things that the Director already considered, but his teammate was missing and he didn't like it. "Maybe we should split up and cover more ground?"

He wanted nothing more than to agree, but that would only make them more vulnerable than they already were. "No," he replied confidently, "Skye can take care of herself. Let's do what we came to do." He glanced at his wide-eyed scientist. "Fitz, you think you can try to figure out this communication thing while we're on the move?"

He shrugged awkwardly, "I think so, but it depends on exactly what the problem is and a lot of other variables, each changing the..."

"Fitz."

He blinked. "Yes sir, I'm pretty sure that I can."

"Good enough for me, let's move. Quinn will likely contain the Gravitonium in the lab, and lucky for us I've been there before." Coulson lead the way into the bowels of the compound, deep underground and hidden from the world. It was surprisingly easy to navigate hallways that he nearly died in over a year ago now, but then again it had been a memorable experience. He continued forward, passing the well hung explosives overhead, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck with this second visit.

_Where are you, Skye?_

His gut was screaming at him that something was very wrong. He didn't believe that she was captured or hurt, but it wasn't like her to disappear and it was that knowledge that was twisting him up and making him incredibly nervous.

There was something else that he wasn't seeing, an unknown variable, and whatever it was it wasn't good.

He kept moving. All they could do was keep moving, and hope that they could manage to stay ahead of whatever was coming their way.

 

***

 

  
Skye was alone in the dark. She hasn't feared the dark since she was six years old, thanks to a particularly troubling foster parent who believed that time outs were to be spent in a musty hallway shoe closet. That was a long, long time ago. Now she was an adult, a trained operative who has successfully navigated several dangerous and sanctioned missions. Yet her breathing was getting a little harder to control, and her mouth was feeling that much too dry and difficult to swallow. Waving a hand in front of her face was useless, only heightening the building anxiety since she couldn't even make out an outline. The blackness was so thick that she was beginning to wonder if she would just die down here, caught in some sort of catacomb-esque maze of terror, never again able to find her way back into the world.

_...every field agent has a defining moment..._

She stopped, completely frozen in place while pushing away the deep timbred voice that led her underground and into this exact predicament. _That's what you get_ , she thought bitterly, a little angry at herself for charging after her own personal boogeyman without a single pause.

Then again, nothing about Grant Ward, good or bad, has ever given her pause before. Why start now? When he kidnapped her from her van and carted her around with a sack over her head, she knew instantly that he was a soulless, cold, obedient government toolbag. When he was her protector, he was still cold and obedient, but there was a purpose to him that felt insurmountable, as though nothing could get by him to harm her. She knew without a doubt that he was great at his job. When they hid at a super-secret underground military installation in the wild's of Canada, he professed real boy feelings and kissed her and she tumbled further down the rabbit hole. That kiss had been a long time coming. It wasn't the first, but it was the one remembered as the beginning of the end. Everything he felt was in that moment, and she knew with absolute certainty that they fit.

Until they didn't.

Skye picked up the pace and bolted the last few remaining feet, almost to her point of egress and to the small haze of light that at least allowed her to make out shapes in this disturbing darkness. She needed to concentrate on the here and now, which had a criminal Ward escaping while she strolled down memory lane. The past was irrelevant and she had to stop being...

_Thwap!_

She blinked, and again, and one more time, feeling as though the entire world stopped spinning while she processed the fact that she was face first on the floor. There was a sharp and uncomfortable pain resonating up her jawline and into the back of her head, thanks to her chin connecting unexpectedly with the ground. On instinct, she rolled, prepared to fight her attacker but there was no one. No harbinger of death or evil looming and about to strike, and no Grant Ward with menace in his gaze. She went to pull herself up from the dirt, only to finally notice that her feet were tangled with something large and solid and heavy. It was a body. Her hand shot out, searching for answers more desperately than she wanted to admit, and it was a tremendous relief when a strong and steady pulse pumped against her fingers. He was alive and breathing, and likely out for a good long while, but at least she knew she was going in the right direction.

There was no weapon anywhere.

She took a slow breath and stood, finally exiting the hellish hallways that seemed more like dungeons and torture chambers. She climbed the staircase slowly to mitigate the squeaks and groans, but it took all her strength to resist the urge to charge forward full speed ahead. When she did reach the top there was another door and it appeared to be locked. Why would he lock it, especially with a body left in his wake? That seemed redundant. She tried again, noting how it jolted enough that it clearly wasn't locked. Skye frowned, a little annoyed now.

She placed one hand on the dull knob and the other flat on the door, and then she shoved. It took more work than she would have liked, but eventually she could slip through the crack, only to find herself in a very luxurious hallway that was nicer than most people's livingrooms. Or so she imagined, since she wasn't really familiar with livingrooms or homes or anything else that could be deemed normal. She glanced around carefully, wanting to whistle at the extravagance that surrounded her, but the urge died in her throat when she saw what had been blocking her entry.

It was another body.

This was quickly becoming a pretty twisted trail of breadcrumbs that she was following, and it strengthened her resolve to stay on point. She determined that the man was out like a light and weaponless, and so she could focus on what lay ahead of her. The jewel-encrusted lamps and vases were immaterial, as were the mahogony running boards along the ceilings and floors. All that mattered was that Ward was dangerous, and if she continued to forget exactly how dangerous her former friend and trainer could be, she merely had to glance down at the presents he was leaving her unknowingly. This had to stop.

She was going to be the one to stop it.

Skye continued on her journey, walking the bright and wide hallway with little fear of getting caught. The building seemed deserted, and the few guards that were on sight weren't a high concern since her target was knocking them out for her while she tracked him. Some times it was important to appreciate the little things in life.

She reached the end of the corridor and paused, taking an extra second to note the old fashioned phone that sat on a nearby table. The base was made of solid gold, and she couldn't contain the eye roll that was impossible to hold back. _Jesus!_ Ian Quinn was ridiculous! He was not afraid to flash his over-bloated wallet, even at an evil compound of doom.

She walked a little further until she was struck with a powerful sense of deja vu. This wasn't her first time here, in fact, she knew exactly where Ward was going now. Her pace grew steady along with her confidence, and then she spotted a familiar door made of heavy Mahogony to match the rest of the house. The wood was intricately carved and amazing, and she took a quick breath, losing some of her speed as she approached.

Skye was ready to close this turbulent chapter of her life, but to do that she had to walk inside and face the one thing she has been running from since Providence. She lifted her weapon and stepped around the large, shiny desk that usually held a guard behind it like a sentry for evil. She glanced at the body on the floor and sighed softly, bending automatically in what was quickly becoming routine.

She blinked, moving her fingers around for a pulse. This time there wasn't one. She tilted the man's head to the side and spotted a pool of blood, now soaking into once blonde hair, and an overwhelming sadness washed through her before she could contain it.

Ward killed people. Why did she keep losing sight of that truth?

She refocussed on the door and the office, trying to push down memories of her previous visit; jumping from the balcony in an effort to escape a billionaire and his henchmen, and dashing around the grounds until she was facing death at the poolside. That is, until someone dark and lethal rescued her from such a horrible fate. That Ward was fake. The real one broke everything that he touched.

Skye pushed on the wood and entered the office space slowly, keeping her muzzle trained on her target. He was...not the same as her memories. His hair had some length and was a little unkempt, which stood out in stark contrast against the pale white of his sun-deprived skin. Cheeks that were always perfectly clean shaven and smooth, had a dark shadow of stubble. He was larger, how was that possible, but his solid wall of muscle was a lot more substantial. She swallowed. His fingers were typing on a keyboard, and she cleared her throat, enjoying the fact that she managed to sneak up on him when he was the super spy. Obviously, prison has made him rusty. She couldn't hear anything except the thundering of her own heartbeat.

He stopped what he was doing, frozen in suspended animation or maybe disbelief, and then he slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers. She smiled proudly, even as that thundering heart in her chest tripped faster, threatening to break free. She didn't twitch, didn't waver in the slightest, and inwardly she was cheering at the accomplishment.

There he was, and he _was_ the same Grant Ward. He was still the man that was always with her, even when she had him stuffed securely deep inside herself, once a friend and now an enemy. She stared at the dark eyes that knew too much, and tightened the grip on her weapon.

"So," she began coolly, "not even a hello for an old friend?"

 

***

 

Ward gingerly eased into the supple mocha leather that practically invited his aching body to stay, but he wasn't here for comfort. The laptop on the desk was state of the art, and he didn't know computers the way that...certain people did, but he was pretty sure that you couldn't buy this brand on the open market. Typical Quinn, only the best of everything. He fired it up and stared at a little box requesting a password that would grant access. His fingers typed, and he let out the small breath that was momentarily lodged in his throat. So his intel was spot on, that was good. He continued with his mission, finding what he needed almost immediately, and began to copy the file onto a small flash drive. Easy was good, and in and out was better, because there was a lot to do and his window of opportunity was shrinking at an alarming rate while he sat on his ass at this desk. What he wouldn't give to have someone else sitting here and tackling this grunt work; someone with wide brown eyes and long brown hair, and an infuriating attitude that could drive the sanest of men off their rocker.

_...not even a hello for an old friend?..._

He stopped completely, blinking through his shock while determining whether he conjured her here like magic. Hallucinating was the more obvious choice, but the clearing of a throat told him that neither were real. She was real though. Skye was very real. He lifted his gaze slowly, taking in the one person in the world that he wanted to see, to talk to, to fight with.

She was different than she used to be. Looking past the muzzle that was trained on him with unwavering accuracy, he caught the shine of anger and hatred staring back at him, and a warm bloom of pride stirred in his belly. Good for her. May has brought her a long way, he could see the changes. Her body was stronger, more sleek but no less beautiful, and her focus was razor sharp. The time for dropping the mag from her weapon by mistake was long gone. She knew exactly how to hold her firearm and where to aim, and how to never take your eyes off your target for even a fraction of a second. There was no doubt whatsoever that Agent Skye was well-trained, and that she could handle him and this situation. May definitely did her job.

That anger burning below the surface though, that was all his doing, and he finally smiled at the woman who was still haunting him after all this time. Judging by the tightening grip on the gun, the happiness was not well-received. _Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes_ , he thought, wanting to voice the sentiment but unable to get it past his dry lips. Her curves were covered in black leather, lethal and sexy all at once, and well... He liked the no-nonsense bangs.

"Place your hands flat on the desk and stand slowly."

He heard the order loud and clear, deciding to comply. There was little doubt at this point that she would shoot him. So, he rose from the leather, wincing from the stretch along his left ribcage. He could see her glancing there with interest, not concern, and he stood to full height and pulled the front of his shirt up to flash his injury. Her eyes lingered a little longer than they probably needed to, and he felt another pulse of warmth passing through him, born from a relief that she wasn't as unaffected by him as she was pretending to be.

"That's a stab wound," she offered, flatly and without emotion.

"You don't say," he replied, equally monotone. He could see her wheels turning and working things out - what happened to him, and how that dead guard in the hall was dead for a reason. He knew the moment she understood, but he also knew that she didn't want to. The rising blush on her cheeks told him exactly how pissed off she was, and he let another small grin tug at his lips while they got reacquainted. "You look amazing," he admitted, placing his palms flat on the desk as instructed while they stared in a heated battle.

"You look like crap."

Ouch, but true. "Eight months stuffed in a hole in the ground does that to you." She was a statue. "Torture isn't great for you either."

Skye glared, unable to suppress the bottled up emotions that have been tucked away for far too long. "Poor Grant Ward, he's not bad he's just misunderstood."

They stood face-to-face across the room, feeling a distinct charge on the air that was drifting away from mission and awfully close to personal. The large office was shrinking by the second.

"So much anger," he teased carefully, "after all this time I would think that you would have let some of that go, but you haven't." He watched her closely, enjoying the push. "I wonder why?"

She laughed, cold and sharp. "Oh please, get over yourself. We kissed three times. I think I'm over it."

He grinned widely. "But who's counting, right?"

Skye lost her temper. "Shut up, Ward! Stop wasting my time and tell me what you're up to?" He didn't say a word, he merely leaned over the desk as though he had all the time in the world, and she wanted nothing more than to march up and smack the smugness out of him. "Whatever it is, it won't work."

He tilted his head slightly, taking in every taut inch of her while she stood there hating him to his core. He really, really missed her. "You don't know what I'm up to," he stated plainly.

She took a slow, deep breath, remembering everything May instilled about patience and focus and clarity. She was not going to let him goad her into making a mistake. "Stand and take two steps to the right of the desk," he rose and she waved her weapon in the direction she wanted him to move, "two steps, not three, not one. If you try anything I _will_ shoot you."

He did as he was told, standing in the center of the space with his hands raised in front of him so as not to spook her. "If you fire," he voiced evenly, holding her angry eyes with intensity, "make sure to put the bullet in my heart."

"Are you really going to try and play the _wounded party_ card?"

He sighed heavily, wishing they had more time to hash things out. "The clock is ticking, Skye. We need to get out of here right now."

It was her turn to grin widely. "Oh _we_ will, and then _you_ are going into an even deeper hole than the one you crawled out of."

He shook his head slowly. "That's not going to happen."

She ignored him. "You haven't told me why you're here?"

"You know, if Quinn finds either of us we're both done for."

"So you're not working for him then?" The look of open shock and then anger on his face gave her pause for half-a-second. "I thought you might be getting the band back together."

He was furious! "You think I would work with that man - _FOR HIM?_   He shot you twice and left you to die in a basement!"

He wasn't the only one boiling over. She wanted to punch him more than she's wanted anything in her entire life. She swallowed, taking an extra second to get control of her own rampaging emotions over the subject. "That would be touching if you hadn't betrayed everyone who genuinely cared for you, in order to follow a lunatic like a panting puppy dog." She felt her hand shake and quickly cupped the bottom of her palm to keep her aim true. "You already worked with the man after he put me in that hospital bed, so please, please..." When he opened his mouth to say something, she lifted her hand to stop the words in their tracks. "...please, enough with the fake endearments, Ward. You're a liar. It's what you do."

Grant lowered his hands to his side and stared at her with sadness, not bothering to hide his sorrow or disappointment or longing. "I forgot how completely stubborn and infuriating you could be."

"Why are you here?" she asked again, losing her paper thin patience.

"As a highly trained SHIELD agent, I would think that would be pretty obvious."

There was that urge to smack him again. "No, no, no, I mean why are you here...right here...in this office?" He blinked, betraying nothing, and yet he called _her_ infuriating. "What's with the flash drive?"

He lifted his hands again, quickly glancing at the watch on his wrist. "We have just under a minute and then all hell is going to break loose." He found her eyes, waiting.

"The Gravitonium is in the basement and so are a ton of armed guards that you could sneak up on with probably very little effort, but here you are, at a computer. That's not exactly your style." Still nothing, just a blank expression as he looked at her.

Skye wanted to break something, and truthfully, she wanted it to be something on Grant Ward. The obvious solution to their stand off would be to walk to the screen and look, but the bigger problem with that is it would take her full attention away from the man a few feet away. No good would come of that. "If you tell me the truth, maybe I could help?"

Ward blinked, blindsided by the new _let's be friends_ route. She still managed to surprise him. "Listen to me, we need to leave."

She took a strong step forward, feeling very insistent all of the sudden. "What is on the damn dri....?"

 

**BOOM**

 

Skye knelt to the ground on instinct, feeling a strong wobble travel up the floor and through her legs, as a deafening explosion rocked the building hard. She had a moment to glance through the window and see a large grey cloud begin to rise on the far side of the property, but the moment was short. The next thing she knew she was slamming into an opposing wall and being held there by her prisoner. She wanted to scream. "You're a real son of a bitch, you know that?"

He chuckled. "I can be," he agreed, making sure they were very close indeed. "You can't blame a guy for wanting to get cosy."

She rolled her eyes, trying futilely to budge from her spot on the wall, but there was no way she was moving an inch until he let her. She tried not to notice the way her breathing was laboured, thanks to large, warm muscle pressing against her in ways that felt more intimate than threatening. She also tried not to forget that she was at the mercy of a murderer, despite the need that radiated off of him, desperate for her to look at him the way that she used to. She could never afford to let that happen ever again. Skye stared at him, ignoring the clench in her gut as his warm breath hit her face. "So now what?" she challenged carefully, "you going to make a move?" She was not going to think about those three kisses.

He grinned openly. "Not until you want me too."

"That day will never come."

"No, it will," he insisted softly, perfectly aware that he wasn't the only one reacting to their close quarters situation. "It will," he said again, "because you're going to remember."

She opened her mouth and then had to promptly close it to swallow. "Remember what?" His eyes were right there, warm and intense at the same time.

Grant leaned a little further, nearly brushing his lips to hers despite everything. He looked into her wide, bright gaze. "You're going to remember that you love me."

She sucked in a breath, turning her head slightly because he was just too tempting even though she had every intention of keeping her promise and dropping him into a dark prison cell.

"I wasn't kidding about all hell breaking loose. You need to leave this island right now. It's dangerous."

"...said the murderer who murders people." He frowned, and she felt a little bit victorious. "Tell me why you're here. What is on that computer that is so interesting, and what is with the explosives?" He watched her with a steady gaze of his own and she wanted to smack him again. It was an ongoing compulsion. "Why do you want The Gravitonium? What are you even going to do with it? You know what it can do," she accused, struggling against him, but to no avail.

He really wanted to kiss her. Grant took a slow, steady breath. "The flash drive is none of your business," he pointed out, "and the explosives belong to Quinn. His intention is to sink his own damn island and fake his death. It's not a bad plan, really? However, he'll be a little disappointed to know that I control his explosives and plan on helping him along." She blinked in shock, and he smiled again, honestly a little proud that he managed to stun her.

She felt like an idiot for not seeing this sooner. "You're the reason the communications are down. You knew we were coming."

Ward took a step back, releasing her from his impenetrable grip, but there was only a foot between them. "Get your team and get out of here while you still can."

"And what...leave The Gravitonium for you?" She stared hard. "No way in hell!"

He leaned forward, trapping her between his arms as their eyes locked. "Do you really believe that Shield or Hydra should have their hands on that kind of power? Truly?"

"So I'm supposed to believe that it's safe in your trustworthy hands?" She laughed, she couldn't help it. He ran a finger over her cheek and along the seam of her bottom lip, and her bravado died instantly. All the air was gone without a trace.

"Skye," he breathed, hating that they were out of time, "duck," he instructed, right before another blast shook the building and exploding glass and debris flew around the room.

She blinked, noticing that she was relatively shielded from the fallout thanks to a large, strong body curling around her, and then he was darting for the balcony with clear intent on escape. "NO! Damn it, Ward!" She reclaimed her weapon and fired, but the shot was high and wide and she knew it wasn't an accident that she missed him as he leapt over the stone railing. Skye followed, peering down, but he was long gone. No trace. He wasn't in the pool or anywhere else that was visible, and she wanted to throw a tantrum of epic proportion.

Well.

He wasn't leaving here without the prize, and she wasn't leaving without him. She might be trailing in this race, but it wasn't over yet. Grant Ward was not going to disappear again, not while there was still breath in her lungs.

Skye ran for the door and the black basement that suddenly seemed a lot less terrifying, with a new mission to fuel her:

Capture her SO if it was the last thing she ever did.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. I'm trying to be more regular with updates, but the closer we get to the big Xmas, the harder it becomes. I also had a minor eye surgery a few weeks ago and had to take a bit of recovery time, so that delayed things as well. BUT... I'm definitely writing and will continue to update this story. Thank you so much and I hope you stick with it. :)


	5. And so it begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. That episode happened. At this point, there is no way to rely on the show for Ward inspiration or good story telling (I hate retconning more than anything), so I'm just going to go about my business and write the "grey" Ward that I fell hard for and hope people still read it.
> 
> Without further ado...

Ch. 5

 

"This would be a lot more enjoyable for me if you would relax," he suggested strongly, while staring into wide brown eyes mixed with disdain and a healthy dose of disinterest.

"You heard the same explosions I did," she began, running a manicured nail over dirt and debris, "this place is disgusting."

He actually chuckled. "Who cares," he said more loudly than his usual dulcet demeanor, "we'll be gone soon enough and finally free of SHIELD and Coulson. Where's the downside?"

She stared at him in silence for a beat, taking in the barely restrained glee that was wrapped in a sharp, white Armani suit. "I've never thought of you as an idiot before today Quinn, but your arrogance is going to be your downfall."

He sneered for a moment, before regaining his composure. "You mean OUR downfall, don't you Raina? If I don't get out of here, neither do you, and so I encourage you to get onboard my gravy train pretty damn fast." He slipped off his jacket and tossed it to a nearby henchman, feeling more freedom as he casually rolled up the black sleeves of his dress shirt. A few minor hiccups didn't mean the plan wouldn't work, she was panicking. "Coulson is on his way, you know it and I know it, so what is the problem?"

She shook her head slightly. "Maybe that Coulson and his team are on the way! He has bested you at every turn. Your mistake was inviting him here in the first place to interfere."

His annoyance was growing. "He got lucky a few times, that's all, he's not indestructible." She opened her mouth to counter but he shook his head, placing a finger on her soft lips to shut her down. "Be a dear and stop ruining this for me. This is the same plan we had yesterday and you were a lot more optimistic, so what happened? Do you have a little stage fright?"

She shoved his hand from her face and glowered. "I don't get _nervous_ , I just know when a mouse is inviting a cat over to play it never ends well for the mouse."

This time his laugh was genuine. "Oh Raina, you're lucky I continue to see value in our relationship, and by the way," he continued, "I'm always the cat." Ian refocussed, clapping his hands together in anticipation. His arm reached toward a wall, where he pushed a small black button on a slightly abused shelf. An LED monitor rose from the unobstrusive wood. "Look," he instructed, enthusiastically, "they're working their way down the corridors and should be here soon." He placed a comforting hand on her slim shoulder and squeezed gently, lowering his voice as though he were speaking to a child, "things are happening exactly like we knew they would."

"Well," a new voice interjected from the entrance, "maybe not exactly?"

Ian Quinn blinked, finding Phil Coulson training a gun on him from the doorway of his lab. "How...?" His eyes dropped to the video monitor that was telling a decidedly different story. There they were, the SHIELD team including Coulson, making their cautious approach in the tunnels. "You hacked the feed," he mumbled, in realization.

Coulson pointed to his friend. "Fitz did, but yeah. Sorry about that, I hope it doesn't spoil the mood."

"I hate being right all the time," Raina pointed out, ignoring the daggers being shot at her from her unfortunate choice in partner.

Coulson glanced around the lab carefully. It looked the same since the last time he had been in this room so long ago; furniture and equipment were tossed around and lying in unnatural positions after the Gravitonium went a little haywire. He couldn't prevent the spike in his heart rate, as the memories came flooding back. He found Quinn watching him with his usual _holier than thou_ confidence. "You could have cleaned the place up if you were having company over."

"Waste of time," Ian replied, unable to mask his building anger. "You took what rightfully belongs to me." He ran a quick hand through his perfect hair. "I believed in the Gravitonium when no one else did, I FOUND it when everyone thought I was crazy, and now I finally have what you stole. So thanks Phil...for coming, I mean."

"Am I missing something?" Tripp piped up, keeping his gun trained on the guards whose side arms were laying at their feet.

"Yeah, you are," Redmond answered, looking around nervously. "He's up to something?"

Quinn stared hard at his old friend and commrade. "Took you long enough to get here, buddy."

Redmond blinked and then backed up slightly as Coulson's team had their weapons covering him as well. "Wait just a minute," he stammered, glowering at the pompous billionaire with growing daggers. "Coulson, I'm not working with Quinn."

"Maybe not," the Director agreed, "but why don't you stand over there until we get everything sorted out?" It wasn't a suggestion.

Suddenly Ian let out a bellow of laughter and they all stared at him while he began to crack, caught up in his own amusement.

"Relax Phil, he's telling you the truth. I only work with people whose intentions I can understand and trust to benefit my own. Redmond stopped being beneficial to me a long time ago, or rather, stopped being beneficial to me until I decided I needed some bait on my hook."

"What the hell are you going on about?" Frasier asked, noting how his former partner was not making a lick of sense.

"I. Used. You." Ian clarified, with an easy smile on his lips. "Someone had to do the dirty work, and who better than a former business associate full of bitterness and resentment. It's okay though Redmond, I get it, I'd be upset too if I wasn't already me. It sucks always coming in second, or so I'd imagine, but some of us will always come out on top. It's the circle of life, my friend." He flashed a wide grin, watching appreciatively as a horde of armed men shuffled into the room, taking back the control as the SHIELD team was vastly outgunned and outnumbered. Things were looking up by the second. He strolled toward Coulson until they were face to face. "I wanted you here, and I needed you to think that this wasn't a trap." Ian glanced sideways at Frasier, enjoying his disbelief at being suckered almost as much as getting the upper hand on Coulson and his scooby gang. "Phil," he said with appreciation, "you've made things difficult enough for me that I have to fake my death, at least for awhile. If I'm going to play dead then it has to be believable, and what is more believable than me parishing on my beloved compound by the very creation that you stole out from under me." He smiled.

Coulson smiled too. "You don't do crazy as well as John Garrett did," he pointed out, watching the joy drop from the philanthropist's face, "in fact, that entire speech fell a little flat for me, but if you want to sink into the ocean I'd be willing to help you out."

Quinn's eyes flashed brightly. He crossed his arms and stared. "I'M not the one sinking into the ocean Phil, but thanks for the offer, and when they find your body floating amongst the debris and destruction...well... That will bring the right amount of gravitas to this little charade. Sorry about that." He turned to his men, who shoved their _guests_ toward the back of the laboratory. "Alright then," he said cheerfully, while rubbing his hands together with excitement, "let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

Coulson watched his team being lined up along the far wall and it made him angry. "Is this a firing squad, Quinn?"

"Weren't you listening?" he asked, slightly annoyed that his captive was not taking this as seriously as he probably should. "Riddling you with bullet holes is not condusive to the plan."

Coulson shoved a hovering gunman away and leaned comfortably against the cold cement wall. He found Ian's eyes head on. "What exactly is the plan, because blowing up your compound is not going to sink an island?"

"No, but the deep sea explosives that are already strategically placed will do the trick just fine." He took a few steps closer, enjoying this moment because it has been a long time coming. "I finally have the upper hand and I have to say...it feels good. I want you to know that this isn't personal." He almost laughed at the expression on Coulson's disbelieving face. "Okay, it's personal, but I do genuinely like and respect you. I just like winning more."

"If my death is part of the plan, let my team go. They don't need to be down here to pull this off."

Quinn walked forward and put a strong hand on his opponent's shoulder. "You are one hell of a good guy, Phil, I really mean that." He dropped his arm and put some distance between them once again. "Unfortunately for your team, they've proven to be almost as annoying as you have and so I think a clean break for all of us is the best thing." He smiled. "So, back to what I was saying a few moments ago: let's get this show on the road." He pulled a sleek, flat remote from his expensive slacks and waved it with pride, before pressing a large red button in the center of the device.

Silence filled the space while everyone waited with baited breath. They waited a little longer and still nothing but quiet air.  Nothing moved.

Ian Quinn blew out a sharp growl and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maxwell!" he barked, finally looking over at the tattoo-covered mercenary who was at his side and waiting. "Care to explain why nothing happened just now? I mean, that was my moment and you pretty much ruined it."

He opened his mouth and then closed it, before trying again. "I'm not sure."

"You're not sure," he repeated, with a blank expression. "You're not sure." Quinn was losing his temper. "I pay you an obscene amount of money to be sure, and what you're telling me is that you're NOT sure, is that right?"

"It's hard to find good help these days." All eyes followed the new voice, finding wide shoulders and an impressive height filling the doorframe to the laboratory.

"Ward," Coulson breathed out, feeling his gut clamp down tight. Things just went from bad to worse in a hurry.

The young man stepped into the crowded room, keeping one finger on another remote trigger as a slew of guns focussed on him. He stared at the billionaire. "You can shoot me but I can guarantee you that my remote will work." He grinned easily. "Also..." His voice trailed off as most of the guards turned on their employer, and the ones that didn't were quickly disarmed.

_Not good._ "Ward," Coulson tried again, stopping short when the hoverer placed the barrel of a gun against his temple.

Grant watched as _his_ men collected weaponry and shoved all outside parties into the corner of the room. This was working out nicely. He glanced at a beefy blonde in a cheesy uniform, not bothering to mask his ire. "Well, are you waiting for an engraved invitation?" The man blinked to attention and then he and a few nearby helpers collected the Gravitonium. He watched as they _finally_ hightailed it out of the room with the prize in hand.

He glanced over the remaining occupants carefully, unphased by the hatred that stared in every set of eyes - burning hatred reserved solely for him. It was not a new experience. Quinn was practically turning purple as he slowly grasped his loss of control, and Raina was as calm and slippery as always, patiently waiting for the tables to turn in her favour. There was a man in a suit beside her that he didn't know, but one quick assessment told him that there was no immediate threat there. He was another _Quinn_ , and therefore ultimately useless. His former teammates were a much larger concern overall. Fitz was alive and furious with him, but he would never begrudge his ex-friend that, not after what he did. The overwhelming consequences of his actions slapped him hard, thanks to a bright red electronic eyeball pinned to his every move. He was responsible. It was a difficult truth to accept and deal with, but this was not the time for _feelings_. He blinked and continued his observations, focussing on the mission at hand.

May and Simmons were glaringly absent, which meant they were on the bus. Someone had to be in charge of extraction, and May had the most tactical and piloting experience for such a _stretched_ mission. Simmons would be needed for the Gravitonium when it was brought on board. That left Tripp and Coulson.

He walked up to the former, who was standing as calmly as he could under the circumstances. They stared at one another. "You should probably give me the knife that you've got taped to your spine." The specialist's eyes flashed and Ward couldn't help but grin. Sure, once upon a time he and Tripp were on the same side of things, and they both had Garrett in common, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the upper hand a bit. Afterall, only one of them was forced to make an impossible choice and lose everything that ever truly mattered. A little cockiness seemed justified. Also, he never really liked the guy.

Tripp complied easily enough, which set Ward's alarms off big time. How could someone so highly trained be so obvious? "Collect his jewelry and anything else he has on him," a man stepped forward to follow the order, "and do it _carefully_." He saw a deeper level of irritation surfacing on the face opposite him, and a small grin re-emerged. "We wouldn't want any of your grand-daddy's toys to become a problem." Unsurprisingly, Tripp threw a punch, but it didn't land as hard as it would have if Ward had slower reflexes. However it would leave a mark, and despite his annoyance, he could respect that.

With a nod of his head, a nameless henchman secured the young agent with a zip tie, and Grant switched all his attentions toward his boss...ex-boss...ex-Coulson. He found he had a surprisingly large amount of issues when it came to this particular man, and he had absolutely no idea where to start? What do you do with a man that you begrudgingly respect, even after he ordered countless hours of physical and mental torture on you? He wasn't entirely sure. Small talk seemed off the table.

"Agent Ward, it has been a long time."

Grant sighed heavily at the interruption, forcing his mind free from a lot of heavy Coulson confusion. He glanced over his shoulder at Ian Quinn, who was doing his very best to mask his rage behind a winning and welcoming smile. It was the same expression used to charm countless people out of a lot of money. Ward stepped away from the team. There were other priorities right now. "Former Agent," he replied dryly, looking the man up and down with a careful gaze. Then he visibly relaxed. "Ian," he greeted warmly, with his own fake smile in place. "You've been a busy boy."

"Listen," Quinn started forward, stalling out as one of his two-faced sellouts put their hand on his arm. He saw Ward shake his head and then the guard released his hold, allowing him to continue. "We should be working together on this, afterall, we want the same thing."

"We do? You sure about that?"

Quinn swallowed. "The Gravitonium may be mine, but there is more than enough to go around. I didn't become a billionaire by accident. With your... _ingenuity_ , and my business smarts, think of the things we can do together!"

"It's true, you are a gifted money maker."

"I am," he beamed, taking a step forward, "and I am also willing to do what needs to be done. We've worked well together in the past. The future can be even brighter."

Ward contemplated everything he said and smiled softly. "Well let me ask you this?"

"Anything?"

His dark eyes got a little bit darker. "Your plan to fake your death, it involves sacrificing the team in order to make it believable, right?"

Ian felt a stirring of trepidation and he didn't like it, but panicking was not an option. "Well yes, but after everything they've done to you, does it really matter?"

"Good point," Ward said easily, hopping onto a nearby table and swinging his legs under the wood while he watched the business man squirm.

"I heard there was torture involved," Ian pointed out.

Ward stared hard at Coulson. "That's true, and I'm still pretty angry about the whole thing."

"You see? So we should wrap this up and get out of here before the bombs start going off."

Ward redirected his attention to the snake in the slick suit. "I don't see the whole team here."

Ian paused, "well, no, but..." He stopped talking. He stared into cold, unforgiving eyes and knew instantly where this conversation was really leading. "I was following Garrett's orders," he croaked, aware that his throat was bone dry, "same as you."

"Not the same as me," Ward offered, "and now you want to follow my lead?"

He nodded, before realizing that he had to find his voice and fast. "I do." His gut was twisting, alerting him to a failing negotiation. "Listen, I had no choice and you know that. Hell, I like the girl! It wasn't personal."

Grant stared hard, noting the bead of sweat on the man's left temple and the way his right hand twitched nervously against the seam of his pant leg. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy every second of his discomfort. "I want to be fair here, and you were part of the Incentive Program."

"That's right!"

"If anyone understands the program it's me. I provided a lot of incentive for a lot of people over the years."

"You see," Ian voiced, relaxing just a bit, "it's all in the past. Neither of us wanted what happened, that was all John Garrett. We need to work together."

Ward smiled, feeling the expression distort as his growing anger began to take over. "The thing is Ian," he ground out, "it felt personal when Skye was dying and needing tubes to help her live."

"Please, Ward..."

"Relax Quinn, I'm not going to kill you." He hopped off the table and leaned casually against the wood with his hip.

"You're not?"

"I'm not," he reaffirmed, before lifting his gun and firing a round into the billionaire's right femur, "but I am going to help you achieve your goal." He nodded at a guard, who promptly grabbed the screaming man and handcuffed him to a nearby, bolted-down table. Ward walked forward and knelt, putting them at eye level. He let all of his hatred show so that not an ounce of it was locked away. "She told me once, about how you smiled at her before dropping her into the dirt like garbage." He stood. "You probably shouldn't have done that." Then he turned to the hard eyes of his former boss. "Handcuff them all to that wall now," the men did as they were told, "and PAY attention!"

"So you're going to finish what this lunatic started?" Coulson asked casually. "What is it with you and lunatics?"

Ward actually smirked, he couldn't control it. "Just giving myself a head start." When his team was safely chained on the farside of the room, he put his gun away and ordered everyone out of the lab. Raina and the suit stood dumbfounded in the corner of the room, not sure what to do? He honestly didn't care one way or the other. Eventually, they both slunk toward the door and then darted through it, hastily making their escape from these tunnels and leaving everything and everyone behind to do it. Why was he not surprised?

"Are you really going to do this?" Fitz asked, annoyed with himself for not remembering that Ward was capable of burying them all alive.

He ignored the scientist and caught Coulson's gaze. It was laced with a lot of things, including disappointment, which was just... He shook it off. "Once I leave here, you'll have one minute to get out of this room and four to get off the island before I sink it."

"That's kind of you, Ward," Coulson ground out, wanting to get his own punch in but knowing it was a bad move for everyone here. "Where's Skye?"

He blew out a loud breath and ran an aggravated hand through his hair. What was it about Coulson that got past everything and made him so mad? "You can waste your time trying to free that jackass from a titanium alloy table, but I recommend for once you give him what he wants." He saw disgust adorn his teammate's faces, which was more than a little shocking in his opinion. Ian Quinn was not worth that kind of emotion. He found Coulson's eyes, fighting a natural anger that bubbled whenever he was anywhere near the man. "Worry about getting your team off this ticking time bomb of an island." He turned his back, ready to leave and get on with his day.

"Where is she, Ward?" he heard again, stopping him near the doorway.

He blew out an annoyed breath and refaced his colleagues. "My men are keeping her busy near the main building. I couldn't have her following me down here, it's too dangerous." He glanced at Fitz briefly, before refocussing. "Get her the hell out of here, Coulson!" Then he did leave, voicing a final warning as he disappeared, "one minute starting now."

"You heard the man," the Director said, while scanning the room, "if anyone has any bright ideas, now is the time."

Fitz focussed on the handcuff around his wrist. _Smith and Wesson. Double lock._ "These are the same handcuffs that Houdini used in his escapes." He turned to his team, who were clearly looking for something more productive just now. He cleared his throat. "Right. Given our situation, we're more likely to break from the wall faster than we would these antiques."

Tripp tugged on the bar that he was cuffed to, and surprise, surprise, there was a little give. "I know you didn't actually mean that, but I think you might be onto something, Fitz." He tried again, noting a small crumbling of plaster dropping to his feet. "Sir!"

"Yep." Coulson grasped the bar and stared at his friends. "On three." He counted off, and moments later they were free from the wall and sliding off the metal, each with a matching bracelet hanging off a wrist.

"I don't get it, was that just luck," Fitz asked with surprise, "because Ward is not usually sloppy?"

"No," Phil replied, making his way over to a writhing and bloody Quinn, "it's like he said, he was giving himself a head start. We aren't the ones that he sentenced to death down here."

Ian gritted his teeth, trying to block out the pain of his gunshot wound. "I don't think that will work with me," he forced an easy grin, while tugging on his metal bonds.

"What about an electrical overload?" Tripp asked, staring at the working lights above them.

"You want to electrocute me?"

They ignored the man.

"Nope," Fitz blurted, while rummaging through random drawers for something he could use. "These are _antiques_ , as in old school, as in strictly mechanical and I am no mechanic and Ward bloody well knows that," he continued on in a rushed sentence, "so naturally he brought them along, the bastard!"

They had long since blocked out the scientists ramblings, and Tripp turned to his boss. "There is one other option." He looked down at a wide-eyed Ian Quinn, "but you're not going to like it."

"Twenty seconds!" Fitz shouted out, before continuing to dig through useless junk.

Coulson nodded and then punched Quinn in the face hard. The billionaire was out like a light. He looked at his waiting specialist. "Do it!"

Tripp reached out and broke the man's wrist and thumb, roughly sliding his secured hand from the bracelet and quickly tossing him over his shoulder like a limp ragdoll.

"Fitz," Coulson shouted, "the door, NOW!"

They made a break for the exit, racing the final seconds of their imposed doomsday clock. The room exploded into rubble as the bombs in the corridors began to go off one by one.

 

 

 


End file.
